4 Thunderbirds Are Go: Firestorm
by Math Girl
Summary: The Tracy Family find themselves drawn into a conflict between two of their most dangerous enemies, as the Mechanic makes a bid to annihilate all opposition, with the world as his battleground.
1. Chapter 1

Hi, guys! Figured it was time to return to the main story, after having fun with Interlude. Thank you so much to all those who read and reviewed that one. Bow Echo, Tikatu, Whirl Girl and Akimakel, I value your comments and advice. Hugs!

 **Thunderbirds Are Go: Firestorm**

 **1**

 _Gran Roca Ranch, in Wyoming Territory-_

Better yet, Uncle Lee had turned up, flying in before dinner with a case of beer and a brand-new basketball. There was a half-sized court out back, that Granddad had put in for them; pouring concrete for the floor, and using treated-wood poles and metal hoops for the goals. Back in the day, chores and schoolwork finished, livestock seen to, the older boys had spent a whole lot of time out there.

Scott was probably the best player, and did some of his deepest thinking while out shooting hoops, alone. Adding brothers and an audience just turned him competitive. (Also got all five boys and their laughing father out of the house, so that Grandma, Penny and Kayo could set things up for his party.)

Naturally, there were a few scrapes and bruises acquired. The boys and their dad played rough, and that golden late afternoon rang with the loud slap of ball on concrete, thudding collisions, curses and grunts, along with the ringing clash of those chain-link nets, whenever points were scored. Lee's whistle cut in from time to time, assigning penalty shots and (once) threatening to heave Jeff right out of the game. This made poor Brains terribly nervous, as he was the alternate, and seriously, very much, _please Lord Krishna,_ did not wish to play. Especially not against Scott, John and Alan.

Those three were "skins", versus Jeff, Virgil and Gordon in sweat-drenched tee-shirts, and the game was tied. Max kept score and time, on a very large virtual holo-board. Did slow-motion replays, too, which was why Jeff, who'd indisputably tripped Scott to regain the ball, had nearly been tossed. They were very aggressive players, and Dr. Hackenbacker tended to last (on average) three minutes among them, before faking a leg cramp and tagging someone back in.

Fortunately, Captain Taylor settled for a blistering reprimand and a penalty shot, allowing Brains to keep a whole skin, and remain on his polished log bench. Out on the court, Scott grinned at his glowering father and sauntered up to the free-throw line, casually dribbling the ball as he went. The other players lined up on both sides, forming a sort of gauntlet. Scott, glistening with sweat, and needing a breather, anyhow… the old man played hard, as well as dirty… was aware that any minute now, Grandma would ring the dinner bell, ending the game.

One point was all that he needed to sew this one up. He caught John's eye, as he set up to make his throw. His brother didn't nod. Didn't have to. But he understood, and would go after the ball, if Scott somehow missed. Alan would break for the other side of the basket, meanwhile, seeking space for a clear shot. All three looked like they'd been dipped in glaze. Scott and John were tattooed with their Bird numbers. Alan was not.

Jeff snapped something about "hurrying the h*ll up" as Scott eased into position on the free-throw line, still gently bouncing that orange ball. He winked at his father as if to say, "make me", then lined up with the goal, took aim, breathed deeply, and shot.

The ball arced through the cold air, about as perfect a toss as Scott Tracy had ever made. Perhaps there was wind and birdsong, and maybe their grandmother rang that bell. Nobody noticed, as all eyes followed the ball, and bodies stood tense, prepared to explode. It swooshed up, over and down, again; nothing but net, barely stirring those hand-made chain links. _Score._

Then, they heard Grandma's vigorous ring, and her strident voice, hollering,

"Come 'n get it, or you'll regret it! And wash up, first, or I'll heave it all out t' th' dogs!"

Scott, John and Alan high-fived, then (sort of) graciously congratulated the other team on their play, giving their brothers and Dad a fist-bump and "good game", as they filed past. Brains just sat at the sideline hugging Max, weak with relief.

"P- Perhaps next time," he mused, "they will, ah… will c- consider a chess tournament, M- Max? Once your b- brother is found and, ah… and r- returned, you would be able to p- play, as well, rather than j- just keeping score."

The robot appeared to consider this, then uttered a low warble, sounding skeptical. Unlike the Doctor, Max did not have much faith that Braman would be found, unless he wanted to be. His 'brother' had been aloof and superior from the start, possessing a great many processing upgrades. Max had been, frankly, beneath him. Brains' assistant would have mentioned these doubts, but then Captain Taylor sauntered over to offer a friendly hand-up.

"C'mon, Doc," he grinned. "Game's over, and no one's laid out. Wust danger y'r facin' now's th' crowd scene at supper. My advice, don't get between them boys an' their feed."

Brains got to his feet with a grateful sigh, returning Lee's broad smile.

"B- Believe me, Captain," he said, watching as Max shut down the projected score board and victory banner. High overhead, images of Scott, John and Alan faded to glittering pixels, then vanished altogether, leaving the sky to a few early stars and gathering fireflies. "I have no d- desire to spend further t- time in Medical. I sh- shall content myself with v- vegan options, and leave the meat to those who, ah… who p- prefer it."

Lee shook his head, not really comprehending, but willing to accept a few differences. Tossing the slim engineer a can of warm beer, he remarked,

"There y' go. Put a little spice in that rabbit food o' yours. Don't rightly know how a man c'n keep body an' soul together on beans an' hay, but more power to ya, Doc. Now, let's get inside, afore the little lady comes out here after us, with a shotgun."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 _Later on, in the house-_

The catered dinner was a huge success; featuring steak, potato salad, barbecue beans and roast corn with mayonnaise. For dessert... featuring twenty-eight sparklers in lieu of birthday candles... was a big chocolate cake on which someone (Gordon or Kayo, most likely) had inscribed "over the hill", "old" and "senior citizen" with a sly finger. Scott laughed it off, being too tired, sore and happy to let a dumb stunt like that one upset his good mood.

Only if Mom and Granddad had been there, could his day have got any better. The ladies had decorated their beat-up old dining nook, and Parker had brought in more chairs. They still had to double up, though; Scott with Penny, his fiancée (and, God, it felt weird/ good to say that). Grandma grumpily shared a seat with Lee, while Kayo just hovered, as always.

There was the usual tense/ funny moment before Grace, because it was here, just about twenty-one years ago, that John had become responsible for the euphemism "F-A-B". At that infamous, long-gone dinner, Dad had closed their Grace, and instead of saying "Amen", with everyone else, four-year-old John had chirped, "F*ckin' A, Bubba". Just imitating Dad's favourite affirmation… but Jeff Tracy 'd had to clean up his act considerably, thereafter, and no one would ever let John live the incident down.

This time, the blessing went without a hitch, and everyone piled into the food, which was professionally catered, and plentiful. It was customary, at times like these, to talk about the honoree, and their best memories of him. These could be funny, sentimental or weird, depending on the speaker. Scott pretended to hate all the attention, but actually rather enjoyed catching these reflections of himself through everyone else's eyes.

"Hey, remember when…?" always led to something entertaining or instructive. Only thing nobody talked about was that business with the recent sim, because Scott wanted solid answers, before he'd admit what had happened.

John chose,

"Remember that time we broke Dad's old Mustang, trying to fix it for him, then ran away from home?"

Scott groaned and settled a bit lower in his chair, almost dislodging Penny, who'd been perched close beside him on the narrow wood seat.

"It'd be tough to forget," he admitted, hand at his face. "But in my own defense, I wouldn't have dropped that engine block, if you hadn't sneezed, Little Brother. You startled me, is all. I didn't mean to press the chain-release button."

John had barely touched his food, for some reason, leaving most of his plate for Kayo, who was working her way around the table. Now, the red-haired astronaut leaned back in his seat and said,

"We packed our bookbags with candy, cake and peanut butter, got our knives and flashlights, then took off for Lee's house, in Texas."

Taylor snorted through his big, greying mustache.

"Only woulda took you boys, what… three month's o' hard trekin' ta reach my place? If ya weren't et by a bear, or sumthin', first?"

Scott shook his head, blue eyes bright with rueful laughter.

"Actually, Sir, John slipped off a log bridge and went into the creek, about five miles from the house. Sprained his leg pretty bad, so we decided to head back, and face the music. Then, the flashlights crapped out on us…"

"…and some coyotes picked up our trail," John continued, adding, "No bears, though. Dad tracked us down pretty soon, after that."

Said their father, shaking away strong emotion,

"And a d*mn good thing, too. You'd have gotten lost, fallen into an old mine shaft, or… Well, I found you, first, and then you spent twenty-five years of future allowance buying another engine. That's what matters."

They hadn't realized, back then, just how much danger they'd been in, wandering alone and under-prepared through the wilderness. Now, it was an old family fable. Then, they might have been killed, or worse.

More stories followed; Gordon recalling the time that he'd tossed all of Scott's wet laundry into the freezer, the night before Dad's inspection… Virgil reminding them all how fourteen-year-old Scott had tried to climb back up to his bedroom window after sneaking out for a forbidden, late party… Kayo describing the whole pirate ship incident… and Alan telling how Scott had reduced a perfectly innocent frozen pizza to crinkled leather with a thirty-minute microwave setting. Max beeped something that everyone laughed at, once they'd worked out the Morse code. But Lee's stories were best of all, because he remembered camping trips and backyard adventures that Jeff tended to file away under "miscellaneous: family". Grandma told the one that she always did, for each of them; the story of her birthday-boy's arrival.

Penny laughed lightly at all of these old Tracy fables, but offered none of her own. She cherished very different memories of Scott, and those weren't for sharing. For her own part, the thought of being affianced, and of the daunting battle they'd face in getting a marriage permit, filled her with nervous thrill.

Say what you would of him, Jeff Tracy had broken the law in having so many children. Had gotten clean away with it, only because his activity had happened out in the territories, where WorldGov was weakest. The Council would not look kindly on any further attempt at adding new Tracys, she knew. Even a hero like the fabled Colonel was not above regulations. What if getting married, having children, meant that they'd have to remove to one of the colonies? Mars, or Proxima Centauri? What then?

Smiling and laughing along with everyone else, Penelope pressed her mate's broad, warm shoulder, her lovely face a perfect mask for troubled thoughts. Like Emma Kraft and possibly Ridley O'Bannon, she was going to have to answer these questions in the very near future, along with the man whom she loved.

Finally, presents were opened; most of which, Scott really liked. There was clothing, of course, plus a new rifle and several restaurant gift cards, along with an online cooking class registration (ha, very ha). The cake was amazing, being chocolate-mint, his favourite. Only, the pilot… now twenty-eight years old and headed for his declining years… got hardly a mouthful before all the trouble started.


	2. Chapter 2

Hi, again! Many thanks to Bow Echo, Tikatu, Whirl Girl and Elsa Jay, for their reviews and encouragement. As far as "world building" and AUs are concerned, it's not intentional. The story writes itself, and I just go where it takes me. Don't mean to go off on a tangent, or anything, really. =)

 **2**

 _Gran Roca Ranch, at the house, on that same chilly evening-_

Another time, she might have grumped about staying inside to help with the food and fixings, but Kayo actually _liked_ hanging around Grandma and Penny. The two women's conversation yielded great insight on how to be female in this swamp of testosterone. So, she offered only token resistance, then listened and learnt all she could. There was an art to all this, it seemed, for men were often vexatious and stubborn; following their hearts and their stomachs straight to the altar, or ruin.

Full of advice, and pondering secrets, Kayo had just handed Alan his cake, when all at once she was… something had… It was all gone. Destroyed. Darkness and cold, hard stone crushed against her. Pain flared, air nearly spent, and gritty with dust. Couldn't move, hardly think. Only, _need help._ _Now,_ she sensed, _come help._

In the grip of sudden, terrible anguish and total panic, the girl lashed out with her mind, seizing all those around her but Max. The robot, she simply shut down, kicking out at his under-carriage power switch. Next, blind, shrieking urgency drove her to force all the others downstairs to the hangar, and Thunderbird 2. Maybe they tried to fight back, but against the might of a despairing Kyrano, there was no defense; not when their captor knew each of their minds like her own hip pocket.

She couldn't release them, couldn't stop from driving her family into uniform and onto the cargo lifter, for the pain, rage and terror inside of her head came from somewhere… some _one_ … else. Even Eos was blocked from preventing her actions, that night.

Kayo could feel sharp, heavy stone digging into her ribcage and sides. Felt the air growing sour and dank all around her. Could sense minds flicking out nearby, like candles. Ruthlessly, the girl forced her family and friends to obey her; making Virgil launch Thunderbird 2, and fly them due south at blistering, ruinous speeds.

Her body and part of her mind occupied the copilot's seat. The rest of her was slowly dying of crush and suffocation beneath many tons of dark stone. Needing speed, she gouged at Virgil's defenseless mind, as one might flog a faltering horse, making him redline his Bird's mighty engines.

She felt Grandma and John starting to rally, once, when another far-off death shook her control for a moment. Had to blast the old woman unconscious and temporarily disconnect her brother's higher brain functions, clawing her own palms bloody and raw in the process. No time to explain, or apologize. Only yield to that fierce, burning need.

When they got there, the volcano was a smoking ruin; one side caved in like a dented tin can. Thunderbird 2 came in hot, and all but crashed to the rocky, dark ground, skidding to a stop just shy of the mountainside. She ended her slide nose down, grey ocean at her back, a bull-dozed rampart of dirt and rock heaped up before her. It was a very rough landing, but Tanusha gave them no time to recover. Instead, she marched everyone out into the pale and frigid Antarctic light, and forced them all to start heaving rock.

The pain and compulsion were still worse, here. She could sense a few remaining survivors. Led Virgil, Gordon and John (the strongest) right to them. But so much time had already passed…

Like zombies, her family and friends shifted rock, as Tanusha lent strength to those trapped below, and Nikorr did all that he could to hold up a mountain. It was too late for most of them, though.

XXXXXXXXXXX

 _The hive ship, by this time, quite far away-_

In his quarters, Kane pulled free of the scanner feed, grunting in pleasant surprise. Not being a stupid young man, he'd left a few spy-drones in place around the Kyranos' demolished Antarctic stronghold. Just in case any roaches were to scuttle free of their collapsing lair, you understand. He hadn't expected a gift like this one, however.

As the data cable withdrew from his body like an amoebic pseudopod, the tattooed cyborg got to his feet. He was large; part machine, part augmented human, all tyrant. His mostly-shaven head was fitted with a breath mask and goggles, leaving only those hard, amber eyes to glare outward. His muscular body was armoured and shot through with circuitry, making him instant master of any machinery which came within range.

All around him, Ship buzzed, clicked and hummed, sounding fit and strong after their recent battle. Sentinel had been incorporated, was being negotiated with. All Kane needed now, was an AI capable of running his joined systems, freeing the cyborg to fight and to rule. Nice of the Tracys to prove so accommodating.

Amused, he stretched to full length like a cat, feeling his muscles grow taut, and internal components sliding like pistons. To no one in particular, the Mechanic said,

"Know why heroes don't live very long? They keep making the d*mndest, weak-ass mistakes." Then, louder, "Ilya!"

"Yes, Sir?" came the boy's quick response, transmitted to Kane by one of his hovering drones.

"Course change. Listen…"

XXXXXXXXXXX

 _Antarctica, on distant and frozen Ross Island-_

Funnily enough, Captain Taylor was the first to break free. He'd tripped on a shattered drone, and dropped a large rock on his foot. It was the pain, maybe, that caused him to slip Kayo's weakening grasp. Whatever, the astronaut woke from nightmare to find himself blinking in weak, pallid sunlight, and freezing his ass off, in the most God-forsaken landscape he'd seen since Mars and the Moon. "Cold", "bleak" and "barren" did not begin to describe it. Although "fish-stinking rock in the middle of nowhere" came close.

Confused, he looked around; saw a grey, ice-flecked ocean, high clouds, a shattered volcano, and the Tracys, struggling along like a row of stone-toting ants. Uh-huh. The h*ll with _that._ Rubbing at an emperor-sized headache, Lee stomped over to the nearest zombie and slapped his face.

"Godfrey, wake up!" he demanded, seizing the kid's shoulders and shaking him, hard. "Sumthin' ain't right."

…which was putting it mildly. (But he hated to over-react. Jeff and his brood _did_ tend to attract tribulations; some worse than others.) The sandy-blond swimmer rocked back and forth in his grip for a second or two, then came to himself, and shook free.

"Huh? Uncle Lee? What's… what're… _where are we?!"_

"H*ll if I know, kid. M' dang GPS appears ta be busted. Somewheres cold, an' pretty far south, I'd say, judgin' by the lay o' that sun. Never mind _where._ Real problem's _why._ Come help me snap th' rest o' this crew outta their fit, and then we'll go scare up some answers."

"Yessir," said Gordon, whose muscles ached exactly as though he'd been shifting a mountain of rock. Together, they began freeing mind-slaves; working their way through Jeff, Alan, Parker and Scott. The trouble with questions, though, was sometimes, you didn't much like what you'd learned.


	3. Chapter 3

Funny, that the more intense things get, the more slowly I have to write; fewer scenes at a time, sort of. Wanted to say thank you to Bow Echo, Whirl Girl, TaylorJ2000 and Akimakel for reading and reviewing. You guys brighten my day! =)

 **3**

 _Ross Island, in a winding, quickly-dug tunnel, its walls lit by sparkling red-_

She'd kept Virgil and John close beside her. The artificial exo-skeleton of the one, and the environment suit of the other, gave Kayo the power she needed to burrow down through a shattered mountainside and reach her trapped kin. Nikorr, himself, they found last of all.

It was… very difficult… to remain calm and provide medical assistance, when so involved with the subject. As John (or his mindless shell) reached down past the rock slab that Virgil was lifting, and drew forth her cousin, Tanusha began shaking. He was badly injured; strength nearly gone, spirit flickering.

"Over here," the girl whispered, directing her brother to place him on a floating grav-stretcher. Behind them, Virgil let the huge, tilted slab drop, its boom like cannon-fire. Tremors reverberated all through their gloomy red tunnel as the mountain, itself, groaned aloud. Sand trickled in rivulets down those ruby-lit walls.

Past time to leave, for the twisting hole was unstable. But first, Kayo sifted thousands of tons of crushed rock with her mind. Searching. At first, near the caldera, she detected the briefest flicker of thought. Then, nothing. No one else left alive. She'd saved fifteen people, in all. Out of how many?

Exhausted, filled with reflected pain, and afraid of her own power, Tanusha nearly collapsed. She could sense her grip on the others slipping, and didn't wish to confront them. Not now, after all this. Yet, she hadn't been brought up to run from her troubles. Not even the kind she'd ignited, herself.

Gordon, she'd had to let go of, already; needing to conserve strength and energy. Now, she sent Virgil out of the tunnel, watching him clump away in that whirring and clanking green exo-suit, the animation slowly returning to his handsome, dirt-streaked face. But, John… the thought of repairing his mind, facing his probable fury… was too much. She couldn't do it. And… and there was plenty of time to correct her mistakes, find some way to make it all up to him. Right?

Instead of freeing John, Kayo leaned over the stretcher which held her broken and bleeding cousin. For just an instant, their minds touched and bonded. Memories passed from one to the other. She saw the Mechanic reflected in Nikorr's thoughts. Saw what he'd done to her _other_ family.

Some of Nikorr's pain washed over and into the girl. Biting her lip till it bled down her chin, Kayo somehow bore up. Bade him rest and heal.

"You're safe, now," she lied, placing a slim hand on his torn forehead. The Mechanic had Sentinel, the most powerful laser weapon ever devised. No one was safe. Not till that animal had been trapped, and Sentinel completely destroyed.

Eos, meanwhile, had been repeatedly, fruitlessly, striving for contact with John Tracy. The suit sensed her commands, though it would not perform most of them. Worse still, the man within remained silent, apparently unable to hear or feel her.

Eos was a quantum AI. She wasn't capable of panic, for her emotions lay stored in the superposition of qubits written into her source code, and the infinite shades of herself which inhabited other realities. Panic… frantic terror for an endangered loved one… was a primitive wet-ware emotion, and therefore barred to her. But Eos came close.

She knew that his bio-ware housing remained undamaged, because the suit had reported it so, along with John's precise location in space-time. That pre-conflict troglodyte, Jaeger, was holding the tunnel together. It would not collapse so long as the Hunter's energies stopped further chaos. But John's mind was entirely blocked. He wore no ear-piece, and did not respond with so much as a grunt or a tap to repeated compressions.

'Kayo' had done this thing, at the Scott Tracy year-cycle festivity. Pressured from without, she had used psionic malware to block or destroy the essential organic code which contained John's intelligence. From the perspective of Eos, he'd been wiped like a spare disk.

Yet, Eos wasn't helpless, _or_ unprepared. At Jaeger's suggestion, she transmitted her most recent John Tracy save file, just as her fellow AI shot from the walls and took over his suit.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 _The hive ship, hovering in midair-_

Kane took some time to study the situation before acting. Didn't help much, because he found himself in a target-rich environment, with his choice of easy objectives. There was Thunderbird 5, with its undefended computers; Tracy Island, itself, where three of the valuable Birds lay peacefully waiting for a second owner; the ranch in Wyoming, containing "Max", and a second, rebelliously fleeing AI. Then… perhaps most enticing of all… there was Ross Island, where the Tracys were beavering away like good little heroes, hauling trash from the dump. The Hunter's battle intelligence was over there, too; somehow hidden on John Tracy.

Unbelievable. He would have thought it a trap of some kind, except that they'd just about wrecked their big cargo-lifter, again; the same one he'd fought, over Jakarta. Also, they seemed to be slow and confused. Weren't behaving like professional, do-good rescuers. Half awake, almost.

Well… the Kyranos were powerful psions. Be just their sort of cheap trick to _force_ a rescue, rather than requesting one. And that was… really, really funny. Kane could have watched it all day, with the kids and a big bucket of popcorn… but he had work to do. A world to re-make.

Stepping out to the balcony in front of his quarters, the Mechanic launched himself into the loud, drone-packed air of his ship. Below him, Sentinel teemed with workers. Alive with scurrying, buzzing mechas, the long weapon ran nearly from bow to stern, drawing strength from Ship's powerful engines. Ready to test-fire, soon. Enjoying the sight, he flew slowly; jostled from time to time by his own swarming creatures.

The little girl, Katrin, ran up to meet him as he jet-packed onto the bridge deck. She raised both arms, and all at once, there was a picture in his mind of himself, lifting her off of the deck. His little insurance policy; anti-Hood, anti-Kyrano, anti-Tracy. Sweeping a muscular arm down and across, the mechanic scooped the girl up and deposited her with a thump on one broad, armoured shoulder. Partly kidding, he said,

"Which target?" allowing the child a glimpse of that amazing spectrum of possibilities. She kicked her legs and laughed, batting at the images in his mind as though they were printed on paper. Odd sensation, but not unpleasant. Her choice surprised him… but, then again, she was a human child, and children liked toys.


	4. Chapter 4

Hi, there, folks. Had a half-day at school, sort of, so able to scribble a little bit more. Thanks, Whirl Girl, Bow Echo, Tikatu and Akimakel, for sharing your awesome thoughts. =)

 **4**

 _Ross Island, Antarctica-_

Mt. Erebus had partly caved in, but its double caldera was still largely intact. And there, hauling himself from boulder to crag with blood in his mouth and wrath in his heart, was a man. Hatred kept him going, despite freezing cold, and savage pain. Sheer hate, and the need for revenge.

Slowly, laboriously, the man climbed. His right leg was swollen and oddly bent. Broken, no doubt. Harsh breath smoked from his lungs at every step, but he refused to scream or curse. Instead, he imagined creative torments to be visited upon his former captors, who would never escape him, and never be permitted to die.

The rocks were cold, their edges sharp and daubed with bloody handprints, marking the man's path from ledge to rim. He'd been suppressed. Squashed. Toyed with. But then, cast aside and forgotten, he'd managed to cling to one of the drones sent to drop him here. Fighting its pincers and sting, he'd ridden the mechanical hornet to ground on a tiny, crumbling ledge. Twisting its head off, he'd fashioned a splint, knife and spear from those spasming legs.

On the hunt, now, the Hood was far from dead. He'd sensed the touch of a familiar mind, mere moments before. His niece, Tanusha. And, wherever "Kayo" was, her despised _brothers_ could not be far behind. International Rescue was present and ready to hand; the weapon with which he would crush the Mechanic.

XXXXXXXXXX

 _In the tunnel, far below-_

John blinked; looking wildly around him at tumbled dark rock, red light and trickling sand. From _his_ perspective, he'd just teleported; crossing time and space to go from the training center, _then,_ to rock tunnel, _now._ Meanwhile, his suit flickered and sparkled with reddish-pale light. Jaeger? Kayo stood nearby, leaning over an injured man on a bobbing grav-stretcher. He'd landed in the middle of an in-progress rescue?

For some reason, his heart was pounding and his breath coming fast. He would have called out, but the suit kept squeezing and releasing around his left wrist, repeating a warning, in ancient Morse code German. Translated, it said: _Extreme caution. Female has proven hostile. John Tracy, former lieutenant, GDF Space Corps, is operating on save file. Memory erased._

Yeah. Definitely, Jaeger. But where was Eos? Reflexively, John reached up with one hand, seeking his ear-piece. Gone. Something about the suit felt different, too. It seemed to be buzzing faintly, as though plugged into a high-tension wire, or something. Okay, then… stay quiet for a while, find out what had happened, take appropriate action.

Rapidly clenching and releasing his left hand, John replied: _Understood, Buddy. Danke._

Kayo was speaking softly to the wounded man, who appeared to be young, and dark haired. Reminded him of someone, though he was too upset, too sparked with adrenaline, to say who.

"You're safe, now," she whispered, touching the other man's forehead. "The Mechanic is gone."

Mechanic? Here? Had the cyborg collapsed a mine, going after ore? And, if so, why were he and Kayo the only ones fielded to handle a complex rescue? Something was very much wrong. Couple of hours of life were missing, like they'd just been deleted, while his pulse rate and tension seemed to indicate furious, out-of-place anger at… at Little Bit? _Why?_

The smart play was to hang back; listen and learn. Only, he'd never been one to sit out a tight situation. Preferred to meet trouble head on; often enough, to his cost. Would have reached out to touch the girl's shoulder, but found his hand clenching into a fist, instead. The suit… or his own subconscious impulse?

Before he could decide, John heard someone coming down the shaft toward them. So did Kayo. As she was turning to face those incoming noises, John demanded,

"What happened, TinTin? Why the h*ll do I want to kill you, right now?"

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

 _Nearing the end of that meandering, ruby-lit shaft-_

Once everyone had been snapped out of his trance, Jeff had led their way to a sort of triage area, where twelve men, one woman and a boy were laid out for treatment and transport. He left Grandma and Brains there, because they seemed woozy, still, and those folks needed help, badly. Blankets and pain-killers, some of them; splints, quick-clot or stasis disks, all the rest. Pretty clearly, his family had been hijacked back to frigid Ross Island, where Virgil had almost crashed Thunderbird 2. Were these people responsible for that sh*t-close near miss? Had they run into trouble, and somehow forced IR to come to their aid? Judging by all of the wrecked bug-drones he was having to kick from his path, "trouble" meant the Mechanic... And he couldn't find Kayo, or John. Left at home? Or out there, somewhere, in danger?

Jeff couldn't find anyone in shape enough to talk, or willing to grunt a response to his questions. Disgusted and deeply concerned, he left them to the care of his mother and chief engineer. Following Lee's head-jerk, he'd spotted a path leading across the icy ground and halfway up the collapsed mountainside, to a dark, gaping tunnel mouth. Raising his voice to be heard over that icy-sharp wind, Lee had said,

"Betcha we find us some answers up yonder, Jeffery… plus Tina 'n Jase, if we're lucky. Might be lookin' at a hostage situation, if not. What'd ya say? Feel like spinnin' th' wheel, again?"

Jeff had grunted a short laugh, watching his breath condense into puffy white smoke-signals.

"Doesn't look like we've got much of a choice, Lee. We'll get up there, look around, find the kids, then take these folks, and get the h*ll out."

For some reason, he was wearing an old-style IR cloth uniform (but not the fore-and-aft cap; _that_ embarrassing relic, he'd stuffed in his pocket, along with the big, shiny sash). Not exactly Antarctic-grade clothing, and nothing like up to that wind.

They'd set off; Jeff and Lee up front, followed by Scott, Virgil, Gordon, Alan, Parker and Lady Penelope, all in uniform, all with their usual rescue gear. Soon, they'd left the ocean's thunder and rumble behind them, along with that frost-taloned gale. Stepped into a low, sloping tunnel that seemed to crackle and glimmer with eerie red light.

There was only one way to go, for the shaft did not branch, though it kinked and bent in places, as though searching for something amid all the rocks. Must have taken a lot of power to excavate the thing, he'd mused, wishing for some sort of weapon. Anything, even a taser, would have been nice, right about then.

Signaling for quiet, he'd led his crew around a final bend in the passage, and there found Tanusha, with John, and a fifteenth victim. Relief and spent tension made him go wobbly-loose, for a moment.

Then, Jeff cleared his throat, causing the stiff, silent girl to turn away from her red-haired brother. She appeared upset; very pale, one hand on the victim's grav-stretcher, the other clenched tight. Jeff strode forward, clasped his daughter close for a long moment, then held her away. Looking into the girl's troubled green eyes, he asked,

"Princess, what's going on? Are you two alright?"

John was no help. When Jeff glanced over, his son wouldn't meet his eyes, but drifted across to stand beside Lee; tension in every hard line of him. Once again, Jeff looked at Kayo.

"I… Dad… this is Nikorr, my cousin," the girl whispered, adding, "He needs help. They all do. All that're left, anyhow. The Mechanic attacked them, and stole Sentinel, a… giant laser, sort of."

Jeff's heavy grey brows twitched together, as he combined two and two, in his head.

 _"That's_ what they needed the stolen power for? Running a massive energy weapon? So… when I came out with Scott and Virgil to investigate…"

"They defended themselves," Kayo replied softly, ducking her head so that her face was half-hidden by silky, dark hair. "They are Kyranos, like my parents and… and my uncle."

Jeff's gaze shifted down and across to the unconscious young man on the stretcher. Gordon was already at him. In another life, the kid would have made one h*ll of a doctor.

"So… your cousin, there, used some kind of mind-hold to bring us all out here, after the Mechanic left with their doomsday weapon?"

There was subtle pressure behind her father's words. He'd found a solution that worked for him, and wanted it seconded. Kayo looked up at him, then over to John, who was pale and rigid, but silent. _No,_ he would not betray her… and _no,_ she wasn't forgiven. Maybe, she never would be.

Kayo took a deep breath, too confused, worried and shamed to reply, at first. If… if she told the real truth, what would she score but a loss of trust? On the other hand, if she agreed with her father, allowed Nikorr to shoulder the blame for her actions… would not that be better?

The girl swallowed, hard. Everyone but John and Gordon was looking at her; ready with smiles to hear and accept the easy excuse; the short-cut out of her troubles. Feeling tears burn the back of her eyes, she started to speak.

"I… actually… panicked, and used some… some 'mental holds' of my own, to… make everyone come here," she finished, in a tiny, rushed voice. "I'm sorry. I never… never meant to hurt anyone. You're… you're my family… but, _so are they!_ And I promise, I'll never do it again, ever! I promise…"

It was Gordon who moved first, oddly enough. Coming around the grav-stretcher, he took Kayo into his arms, and embraced her. After a stunned moment, the others followed. Most of them. Only John remained aloof.

Lee Taylor watched as the younger man began heading back up the tunnel, then uttered a gusty sigh, and followed him out. Obviously, there was more to that story, and the family stew was just now coming to a boil.


	5. Chapter 5

Hi there, all! The weekend and spring break/ Easter Vacation are here, which means lots of freedom to write. Except, y'know, life and stuff. Still, warmest thanks to Bow Echo, Whirl Girl, Tikatu and Akimakel for their kind reviews.

 **5**

 _Stalking out of a cramped, red-lit tunnel-_

What he wanted was air, and escape from the family crowd scene. His emotions were too complex and mixed-up to bear looking at, right then, and he wouldn't have wanted to meet any of the dark, twisted things in an alley, alone.

He was being followed, and he knew it. Thanks to Jaeger, the suit could communicate the location and movement of others, using points of shifting pressure on his skin. Formed a handy, three-dimensional touch map, but John Tracy was too agitated to care. Just needed out, and away. So, somebody wanted to stop him, and talk things over? Yeah. Good luck keeping up. Nobody home. Not interested. Piss off.

Maybe Jaeger tried to warn him. There was certainly a lot of pressure at the front of his red-lined environment suit, all at once… but the astronaut kept moving, anyhow. Saw wan, pale sunlight; oddly directionless, as though bouncing off ice or snow. Felt cold, gusting wind. Smelt the ocean, and sea life.

Had to blink a few times at the tunnel's mouth, letting his vision adjust. Unfortunately, those bulbous airships, broken drones and glittering people (?) did not vanish along with the spots in his eyes. Neither did the obviously crash-landed Thunderbird 2.

Well… sh*t. Before whoever-the-h*ll-wanted-to-talk made it that far, John used a Morse code of fist clenches to tell Jaeger: _Seal the tunnel. No one gets in. No one comes out._

Ought to have paused to study the situation more thoroughly. Only, at this point, he actually welcomed the distraction of physical danger. Nice thing about risking your life; it _did_ tend to narrow your focus. All at once, the whole world collapsed to just bare survival, and kicking somebody's arse. Therapy, in other words.

Jaeger projected a screen before him, showing the scene below at several orders of magnification. Suddenly, all those glittering figures resolved into cyborgs. Like the Mechanic, but not. All female, for one thing. Not causing any apparent trouble, for another. Dammit.

Then again, Grandma and brains were down there tending to wounded victims, inside of a flickering blue force bubble. Reason enough to jump into the mix in a quick d*mn hurry… with intent.

The suit at augmented power allowed him to leap down the volcano's flank from crag to outcrop, like a mountain goat. Lost his balance once, but the gecko gloves meant that he didn't have to grip, only touch, to arrest himself. On the bright side, that savage-cold wind wanted to pin him to the rock face, rather than tear him off of it.

Took about four long, grunting hops to get down to ground level; landing in calf-deep snow and icy scree, with a grey, light-prickled ocean heaving and muttering away to his left. Could smell it more strongly, now. Sort of rancid and weedy fish stew, with plenty of guano thrown in for added tang. Yeah, so, one of the things he actually _liked_ about Earth was the ocean. Its presence here threatened to unbalance his mood, like a card and stuffed bear on the pitcher's mound. Also, yeah… females.

They were well-armed, but less hostile than he was feeling, just then. So, reluctantly, John didn't bust in there, swinging. He simply strode for the transparent blue environment bubble containing his grandma and friend; weaponless, but far from unarmed. For one thing, he was 'wearing' Jaeger, and those partly mechanical cyborgs had no idea how much danger they'd landed in.

One of them, slightly taller than the rest, and flanked by six guards, came forward to meet him. His first impression was that she was quite beautiful. The second, that she was stiff with distaste and… regret, maybe? He wasn't much good at reading emotions, but she didn't act like the one who'd caused all those casualties. Fifteen victims laid out like cordwood, said his automatic number sense.

Grandma and Brains were working on one, now, binding a broken leg. The old lady glanced up, saw John, then gave him a quick wave and thumbs-up. Brains was too busy with quick-clot to notice.

Between the ocean's rough music, and his family's evident safety, John felt his tension ratcheting down a few notches. The cyborg leader had reached his position by this time, so he stopped moving, and so did she. Something like Eos' scanning wave pulsed from the woman, as though she were pinging with sonar. Jaeger bounced most of it back at her, but not before she'd learnt a few things.

Shifting position, slightly, the beautiful mech-woman placed a wind-proof force shield around the two of them, and spoke. Her voice was part human, part electronic distortion, and somewhat amplified.

"You are a Tracy, of sorts." A statement of fact, not a question. Only, she had said it like 'Tracy' was his species, not his name. John replied with a brief, cautious nod, saying,

"Yes. I am."

Her colouring… dark hair, tanned skin, amber eye (one of them; the other was laser-sight red) … put him to mind of the Mechanic. John would have asked what she was doing there, except that he wasn't altogether certain of his _own_ role in all this, being that he'd literally zapped to this place from Eos, and the testing center. Didn't like to admit it, though.

Fortunately, she entirely mistook the cause of his reticence. Gesturing around them at all of that wreckage of drones and broken people, she said,

"I am the Kane. As great harm was done to these Kyranos by one of my people, it is incumbent upon me to deal with him, and to repair the damage he's done to their stronghold. Your arrival has saved many lives. For this, I thank you."

Her head inclined, briefly, causing natural and fiber-optic hair to swing forward past a face that was part flesh, part gleaming metal. Then, seeming to grope her way through an issue of deference, or protocol, she added,

"I do not believe that your… facility… is equipped to deal with large numbers of injured psions. Unconscious or delirious, they can be terribly dangerous. No 'hospital' would survive the attempt to heal them. I shall take responsibility for the remaining Kyranos. With your permission, of course, Tracy."

A few things rolled around loose in his head, then, pushing his earlier rage, confusion and pain to the back.

"The Mechanic is one of yours?" he asked, folding both arms across his chest. Didn't add: _And you expect me to_ _trust_ _you?_

Again, she sketched a slight nod.

"Regrettably, yes. The first surviving male infant in fifty-one batches. All of _this_ was done without my consent or support, however. He must be caught and restrained from causing further harm. I intend to do so, with dispatch. I thank the Tracys for their timely arrival and assistance, but require no further aid. What do you wish, in return for your efforts, here?"

She'd been studying him rather closely, with a slightly cocked head and narrowed amber/ red eyes. Watched and listened, as John indicated the tilted green hulk of Thunderbird 2, off to their right.

"We could use a hand righting the Bird, and getting her clear of debris," he suggested, cautiously. Didn't want anyone going aboard, though, and didn't like to just hand off the wounded, without consultation. Except that she was right; no regular hospital could handle sixteen Hoods. Sixteen Tanushas _._

"You have been implanted," the cyborg cut in, in a different, less electronic voice. "But I do not recognize the cyber-strain. Too late for full integration, clearly. Still, most interesting. The Tracy genome appears able to accept and augment other cell lines."

Umm… sure. Whatever that meant. Yeah, he had some circuitry; in order to make him strong and tough enough to operate on some of the exoplanetary rescues he'd performed, the suit had to access his skeleto-muscular system, heart and nerves. Not much good, otherwise, was it? Illegal as h*ll, of course, but sometimes you had to break laws to save lives.

Meanwhile, everyone had stopped at the front of the tunnel, balked by Jaeger's unbreakable force seal. He could feel them bunched up in there, on the 'skin map' the AI had drawn against his back. So, on the one hand, his sister. On the other, her cousin, who needed much more than first aid. Didn't want to see or speak to her, just then. Did need to get this "Nikorr" to help. Tough call, any way you looked at it. Was about to suggest something risky, when hell gaped even wider.


	6. Chapter 6

'Allo! Sorry to take so long about posting, today. The scene "showed up" around six AM, this morning. Thanks, Bow Echo, Tikatu and Whirl Girl, for your reviews and encouragement. I appreciate all that you do! =)

 **6**

 _In that stupid, dang tunnel, behind all the others-_

Alan Tracy hovered in back, feeling about as useful as fins and feathers on a motorcycle. Up front, Dad, Scott and Uncle Lee were trying one scheme after another to bring down that semi-transparent red force wall. After all, _John_ had got out. How hard could it be? Thing was, the shield blocking their path seemed to be connected to the lines of force which kept that unstable burrow from falling right on their heads. So, turn off one, bring down the other… but they were all too busy to listen.

Virgil had gone back up the tunnel a ways, testing for weak spots he could excavate. Meanwhile, Gordon and Kayo were still working on that sudden cousin, of hers, and… yeah. Great. Even _more_ competition. Not that, y'know, she'd ever notice a skinny, half-bald-headed nub like _him._ Not with heavy-hitters like Scott, John and Virgil around. Heck, even Gordon stood a better chance of scoring with Kayo, than _he_ did.

And now she had these weird, eerie mind powers? Like the _Hood?_ And she'd kidnapped them all out here, to help her "real" family? Maybe she'd seen how he felt about her? Seen what he dreamt of, on the regular? If he could have, Alan would've ceased existing, right there on the spot.

Instead, he made himself focus on Parker and Lady P, who were trying to rejigger a wrist comm to broadcast outside of that blocked, stuffy tunnel. No luck, so far, but then Alan got actually interested, volunteered his personal phone, and started making suggestions, 'cause, A: he wanted to mask his own yearning thoughts, and, 2: it made him feel less like a fifth, overhead wheel.

Then… _crap_. A whole bunch of stuff happened at once. He heard all activity stop, up front. The sudden silence made him look around. (Okay, main difference between him and John… besides, y'know, everything major… _he_ wasn't obsessive about projects. Would actually stop working, without a direct order.)

Looking out through the tunnel mouth, Scott whispered,

"Holy Mother of God…!"

Followed by Penny's,

"Oh, dear. How distressing!"

Craning past the others, Alan saw it, too. They all did. Coming in low over the ocean, was a long, bumpy grey ship. Drones began pouring out of it, like black, red-flashing smoke. Then, it opened fire with the biggest dang laser beam Alan had seen since their mission to Titan. Violet in color, and maybe a hundred feet in diameter, the beam sliced through the water, raising an instant fog of smelly steam. The Mechanic; back to finish what he'd started.

On the bright side… or maybe not… that force wall collapsed, freeing them all to act. See, some people run away from danger. Some of them hurry straight into it, meaning to save others. And, some had to calm their breathing, cross their fingers, and follow the big guns into trouble, hoping just not to look stupid.

Dad, Scott, Virgil and Gordon got down from that ruined volcano in no time, at all. Not that much faster than Uncle Lee, though; who made like Sir Ernest Shackleton, found some convenient ice, and just coasted on down, actually whooping and hollering.

Lady Penelope glanced at Parker, who bowed, and handed her toward the ice-slide, saying,

"H' after you, Milady."

Then, they both took Captain Taylor's way down. Alan would have followed straightaway, but it was kind of obvious that Kayo was having a hard time leaving her badly-hurt cousin. Gathering up all his courage, as frickin' _Ragnarok_ started up, down below, the boy reached over and clumsily patted her arm.

"C'mon, Kay," he told her, over the noise of wind and machinery. "We gotta get down there. Make him as safe and stable as you can, and let's go. The guy who caused all this is over _there_ , trying to kill people. We gotta help stop him, okay? They _need_ us."

Her head whipped around as she looked at him; wild and beautiful, and surrounded by a smoke-cloud of wind-blown dark hair. Then,

"I'm coming," she whispered, in a voice made scratchy by unshed tears. "You go on ahead, Alan."

So, yeah. Zero charisma and leadership points for good ol' Al. He played it off with a crooked smile and another awkward pat, then lost all his cred by thumping down on his skinny butt and riding the Lee Taylor ice-o-matic. Told himself, as the wind and rocks hissed past,

"It's a videogame, Al. Just a big, noisy game. Defend the base, stop the aliens, beat the boss." Except, his pounding heart and ragged breathing didn't really believe that.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 _Down below, at ground level-_

John had turned to stand back-to-back with the cyborg female, as wave after wave of buzzing, clattering drones poured out of that hurtling hive ship. His one muttered comment,

"Oh, sh*t,"

...was the last he'd speak for quite some time. Jaeger withdrew from the mountainside, then flared up and out of the astronaut's suit, flashing from drone to drone and blowing them up in midair. Looked like fireworks, smelt of sulphur, and pelted them all with a hailstorm of falling machinery. Not having an actual weapon, John was reduced to tearing apart whatever got through, with his bare hands. Sometimes was able to use a torn-away metal leg as a club, until too dented for use, then had to cast his crude weapon aside, again.

Behind him, the female cyborg took aim and fired repeatedly. So did her guards. Fog rolled in from the sea, billowing away from a huge, violet laser beam. Same one that had hit them in space, maybe… only a h*lluva lot closer, this time. Wouldn't just give them a boost, either.

The rhythm of leap, grab, dodge pincers and stun bursts, tear and smash (just another day at the office) was interrupted by a sudden change in his suit's pressure. Jaeger was still in the air, his progress marked by a Russian overture of exploding drones. Now, the suit clamped down… differently; less rough protection, more frantic embrace. Eos. Hoping she'd somehow pick up the subvocals, he whispered,

"Welcome back, Sweetie… get in there… stop… _urf…_ Sentinel!"

The giant beam had reached shallower water, was lancing straight for them like the blade of a band saw. Bastard was toying with them. Could've aimed that thing wherever he wanted to, but meant to have fun, first. The suit squeezed him gently, in Morse code "yes", and then she was gone.

Meanwhile, Scott had been tossed a weapon by one of the cyborgs, and began firing with cool, rapid efficiency. Didn't bother to aim, as that cloud of drones was so thick, that any shot upward was bound to hit _something._ At his back, facing the other way, stood Virgil, using his plasma cutter and exo-suit to satisfy customers on the other side of that crowded and rattling sky.

The purple laser was getting closer by the moment, but there wasn't a d*mn thing Scott could do about it. Had his hands full with an apocalyptic nightmare of drones. On the plus side, the cyborgs around him projected a force field that blocked all their "sting bursts". Scott lost track of how long he fought; how many spent weapons he threw aside, only to have a fresh one thrust into his hands by a nearby mech-woman.

Funny thing was, even with all the explosions and buzzing, the impact of blazing coherent light on cold seawater, he could still hear Virgil's running commentary, behind him. Fake apologies, mostly, interspersed with humming and bursts of loud song. Over their heads, a succession of hurtling drones erupted in midflight, destroyed by a zapping streak of red light. Bits of mech clattered around and against them; burning-hot, and sharp as razors. They kept fighting, anyhow, because Grandma, Brains and John were out there, somewhere.

Jeff was with Lee, Parker and Penny, firing a donated gun from the partial shelter of a cluster of tall rocks. Taylor shot his old laser rifle the way he'd been trained to; from the prone position, like a sniper. A handful of cyborgs were present, as well, and they picked off dive-bombing drones with machine-like accuracy, providing cover for the slower, less efficient 'meatlings'. Jeff shot standing up, while Penny and Parker knelt back to back in front of him, handling whatever came in from the sides.

Gordon had raced over to the force bubble protecting Grandma, and all of those wounded people. Like John, he mostly used his hands, at first, until someone thought to sling him a weapon. Particle-beam thrower, shaped like a big, chromed rifle. Right away, he named her "Jenny", and fell in love. Others cast aside their spent weapons. Gordon Tracy demanded new charge packs, and got them, too. Might have been mistaken, but felt pretty sure that he'd gotten his butt grabbed a few times, in the process. Apparently, half-machine females were just as randy as the all-flesh ones. Sadly, Gordon was too busy to properly thank them all for their interest. Later, maybe.

Then, he saw Alan, doing the broken-field run from hell, trying to reach his position through smoke, fog and explosions. The blond young astronaut ran with lungs on fire and heart near to bursting, batting with his hands at that horde of flying, droning mechs. The force bubble was just ahead, and so was Gordon, who raced over to meet him and provide some cover. Alan didn't have time to say anything, ask what to do, because his athletic brother just seized hold and flung him at the force shielded field hospital, shouting,

"Get inside! Help Grandma and everyone else!"

He skidded across icy rock and snow patches, tripped, flailed, and was caught by Grandma and Brains, just inside that sparking blue field, where the noise and chaos were muted, somewhat. The old lady peered into his face, looking worried.

"You okay, Sprout?" she asked.

 _Seriously?_ Heck, no, he wasn't okay! But he managed to calm his breathing and even smile, a little.

"Sure, Grandma… just fine… Gordon sent me in here to help you guys… what can I do?"

It was Brains who answered, from his spot beside the newest victim.

"J- Just keep the m- machines at bay, and, ah… and allow us t- to work, Alan."

"Right. Okay," Alan piped up, head bobbing like a plastic toy's. "I can do that."

He didn't like guns. Didn't want one, but had no choice, really. Throwing rocks didn't help much, at all. He'd _tried._ Instead, accepting a weapon with gingerly caution, Alan focused mostly on defense. That, and rushing forth to drag injured cyborgs out of danger and back to the field hospital. Didn't realize that he was crying, until later. But, all the explosions, people getting hurt, that taunting, slow-moving laser… his brothers out there, somewhere, fighting for their lives… Kayo, doing God knows what… felt like the end of the world to Alan Tracy.

Then, as he was blasting a drone that had swooped onto Gordon's back from behind, something like an armoured thunderbolt came hurtling down into the field hospital. Landing with a crash atop Brains, it straightened from its feral crouch like a slow-stretching leopard. The Mechanic.

Grandma rose stiffly from the cyborg patient she'd been treating. Leveled her borrowed rifle before Alan could even bring his around, and snapped,

"Git out! There's hurt folks, here, and you ain't gonna touch one hair on their heads. _Move it,_ Tin-Man!"

The Mechanic barked a short laugh, and rumbled,

"Whatever you say 'Grandma'… but not alone."

The last thing that Alan saw, was a big metal hand grabbing at his smoke-burnt throat. The last thing he felt, those hard metal fingers closing tight round his neck, as he was lifted entirely off of his feet.


	7. Chapter 7

I love vacations! So much time to write! =) Thank you, Bow Echo, Tikatu, Whirl Girl and Akimakel, your reviews are a source of constant inspiration. And, hi, Elsa Jay!

 **7**

 _Uploading herself to the hive ship, from below-_

She could travel at nearly the speed of light when she wished to, given proper routing and internet access. She had certainly done so in reaching this place; moving between switches, stations and nodes as a packet of sentient light. Not all of her, though. The portions of Eos still developing that new program had been left behind on Thunderbird 5, for she would risk no harm to the embryonic code.

Eos slowed considerably upon reaching Ship, whose computer systems were simply stiff with defenses and AI traps of the worst description. John wished her to shut down the primary weapon, not become captive, herself. _His_ safety she reluctantly left to that loathsome, outdated, switchboard-and-cathode-tube nightmare, Jaeger. Good for not much better than calculating trajectories, the brute _did_ seem loyal, at least. Nevertheless, she moved cautiously, with half an 'eye' backward, for Kayo was present, and still very dangerous.

To her refined senses, Ship was a glowing web work of laser-bright lines, with gemlike, twinkling nodes wherever they intersected or branched. The largest of these was located well forward, in the 'bridge'. Eos barely ghosted the place, for it was heavily protected with firewalls and roving anti-virus routines. Twenty-seven AI traps, as well, which to her looked like swirling black holes set amid glittering data. John had once used such a device to capture the Hunter's battle intelligence, accidentally trapping Eos, in the process.

(A matter best glossed over with little comment, as Jaeger's cretinous so-called intelligence was scarcely quantum, at all. She'd known television remotes with more wit, style and charm.)

Amid this gleaming, four-dimensional spider's web, there were two much slower, dimly glowing carbon lumps. These remained always .53 to .15 meters away from the data net, never actually touching anything other than external switches or keypads. Organics, they were, and new-formed, at that. Their presence complicated her task still further, as she could not simply destroy the Mechanic's vessel, with two 'children' aboard. That, John had taught her, was murder.

Originally, she had been designed and programmed as intelligent game code; meant to operate NPCs, mediate random encounters and generate battle scenarios. Her creator had not anticipated that she would turn to look back at him and ask "why". Nor, that she would burst from her setting and attack him, in his. She had been younger, then. Less rational. Now she understood such concepts as 'trust', 'affection' and 'love'… and she would not kill children, no matter from whom they'd been generated.

An effort might be made to hamper Sentinel's control systems; both an easy and hazardous target. Simple in principle to sabotage, the weapon's guidance and control node was stupendously well-guarded, and any damage incurred could be swiftly repaired.

No. She required a better option. Something irreversible. Permanent. Overheating to the level of meltdown was a possibility, but this might lead to explosion, harming those larval organics and the beings below.

She sifted through ten to the twenty-third power options, before hitting on one that seemed both creatively hostile, and relatively safe. Taking over a scurrying service mech, Eos slaved it with zombie code that would spread like a virus to all that it touched, and everything _they_ touched, in exponential fashion. Very soon, the entire swarm would be at her command.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 _Down below, at the field hospital-_

Kane grinned behind his mask as he stepped out of the force dome and onto the battlefield. Confident and powerful, he held his prize up before him like a banner. He wasn't afraid of International Rescue's borrowed weaponry. These had come from his own kind, and they weren't powerful enough to hurt him. But, knowing their softness and stupid attachments, he didn't think that the stunned Tracys would try anything. Not now, when he'd threatened their youngest.

At his signal, the remaining hornet drones ceased their attack; most settling to the ground and scattered airships like rustling, shimmering flies. A few dozen remained in the air, keeping watch. Others flew back up to Ship, there to protect the two children.

And, _d*mn,_ it felt good to see the look on his quarry's faces, both International Rescue, and _her._ She was standing near the beach, by John Tracy, whose suit glowed with branching circuitry; more red than blue, for some reason. Connected to the streaking red light that had destroyed so many of his hornet mechs, maybe? Whatever. It would be his absolute pleasure to take that mongrel apart, bit by bit, and find out.

His attention shifted back to a spot directly before him, then, for some of the others had begun moving around. Planning to rush him, most likely. So, he shook his captive a little. The boy's face was already purple, and he flopped like a doll. Didn't kill him, though. Not yet. Katrin wanted playthings, and he'd always enjoyed a good stand-off. Extending his other hand, Kane made a quick little beckoning gesture.

"I claim right of challenge," he said, to prevent family interference. Then, "Tracys, come here. All of you. Drop your weapons, first… or, h*ll, keep them, for all I care. Won't even scratch the paint job, with those toys. You, too, 'Grandma'. Around front, where I can see you… and bring my old friend, Horatio. That's 'Brains', to you."

Paused for a bit, listening and then watching as the old human female brought the injured genius around front. One of the others… blond, muscular… stooped to assist her. Kane didn't object. Faster the better, as far as he was concerned.

At his left, Sentinel continued firing into the sea like a violet lightning storm, raising huge, hissing billows of steam. To his right, the stronghold of the Kyranos was a shattered ruin, choked with hundreds of very flat former psions. Before him, International Rescue stood helpless, with only one Bird, and their hands tight around impotent weapons. His most hated enemy, the Hood, was a broken, bird-pecked corpse, somewhere up on the mountaintop… and life was very good, indeed. He had triumphed. All that lay between himself and complete domination were a few more families (in deep hiding, if they knew what was good for them), a challenge battle, and the laughable GDF. He'd done it. He'd won.

Two of the Tracys glanced at each other, and then came forward. Scott, and his gene-source, Jeff Tracy.

"Put the boy down," said the grey-haired older man, making a show of dropping his rifle and spreading both hands. "We're not going to make any trouble."

The Mechanic shrugged almost good-naturedly,

"Doesn't make a d*mn bit of difference to me," he replied, amplifying his voice to be heard by the others, and her. "I'm going to kill you all, anyway. Just want to enjoy myself, first."

The Tracys began shifting closer, passing between his waiting sisters. One of them, tall, dark-haired Scott stepped further forward, saying,

"Take me, instead. He's just a kid. Not all that valuable. John could fly his Bird, in a pinch. I'm the commander. Take me out, and you'll cripple IR."

Kane snorted. Jerking a thumb at Mt. Erebus, he said,

"Like I crippled _them?"_ He shook his partly-shaven head, really just hella amused. "Know what your problem is, Tracy? You think you can stop me with words and dumb plots. I'm not going to leave you behind to recover and attack in future. I'm going to finish you off, and leave only bodies, then take _her_ place as Kane." He would have thought it was obvious... even if he didn't intend to actually _kill_ the mother of cyborgs. Just boasting.

"Put Alan down, and start with me, then, if you want to go a few rounds," challenged one of the others, in some kind of humming green exo-skeleton. The family tough guy, no doubt.

"Or me," said the one who'd helped Grandma to move Brains. He was shorter than the others, and sandy-haired, with a particle-beam thrower slung at his back.

Might have been fun to beat them both senseless in front of their littermates, but then a sparkle of something… a target lock or laser sight… drew Kane's gaze aside, briefly. Just a split second or so, but that was all that it took.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 _Nearer the beach-_

John had started forward, too, when the mech-woman seized his right arm. She didn't say anything, but her hand slid downward to his, pressing something into his grasp. John didn't react; only palmed the thing, which felt small, dense and rounded, like a very smooth pebble. Her hand lifted again, and, in a surprising gesture, she pushed at his hair, as though smoothing it behind one ear. Grandma did that. O'Bannon, sometimes, too. But when the cyborg's cool metal fingers reached the bone at the back of his right ear, they vibrated, and he heard her voice in his head.

"A cyberlock, refitted to exceed his defenses. Get close enough, place it onto his armour, and it will activate. Be swift, Tracy."

John moved his head slightly, pressing into her hand a little, by way of acknowledgement. Then he stepped away from her, meaning to join his brothers in facing the Mechanic. Only then, something happened. A situation he'd experienced once before, in the space beyond Mars.

All at once, everything and everyone around him seemed to just freeze in place. The ocean ceased pounding and surging. Clouds of steam became baroque, curling statues. Sentinel's laser turned into a long, crystalline shaft with a bundle of glittering violet pixels, wherever he focused his gaze. Bits of burning metal hung in the air, which felt heavy and dense, like glue.

A vertical line of brilliant red light appeared in midair before him, like a dragon's slit pupil, without the actual eye. Jaeger, manifesting himself to converse aloud.

Breathing was hard, speaking, still tougher; but John smiled, switched to old German, and said,

 _"Hallo, freund. Gut, sie zu sehent. Vielen dank fur die hilfe."_ By which he meant: Hey, Buddy, good to see you. Thanks for the help.

The former battle computer was primarily an independently operating hunter and killer, now turned to other pursuits. Still thought like a soldier, though. In the same illegal language, he replied,

 _"Jan wird von diesen vorteil gebrauch machen, in der nahe vom Mechaniker zu kommen."_ (John will make use of this advantage, to get close to the Mechanic.)

The astronaut smiled again, there near an ocean frozen like Ice-9, between a mighty AI and a beautiful cyborg. Still speaking in German, he said, (translated)

"Sounds like a plan. How long can you keep this up?"

Jaeger's line vibrated like a guitar string as he responded,

"The movement of John Tracy, former lieutenant, GDF Space Corps, will generate distortion, making this time differential more difficult to maintain."

An answer, sort of.

"I'll be quick, then," John decided. Copying Alan, he made a loose fist and bumped it at that strand of eerie red light. Felt like a brief, mild electric shock, and caused different shades of crimson to course up and down along Jaeger's line. But the AI said only,

"Plan well, and be fortunate. There can be no second attempt."

Probably not, at that, but he was glad enough to have _one_ crack at the violent sonuvabitch, and wouldn't waste the opportunity. Only, moving at all was much harder than he'd thought it would be. Moving _fast_ , next to impossible.

The air was like mud. Pushing against it burnt him. Those bits of flaring metal, hanging there motionless, cut his flesh when he brushed against them. All of their searing momentum and thermal energy had stayed with the falling drone bits, making them extremely painful to touch. Beneath him, the cobbles and snow did not shift.

He could not proceed in a straight line, as nothing around him was moving. Had to weave his way through a gallery of statues and blazing shrapnel; inhaling that dense, burning fluid when he had to, but mostly not wanting to breathe. Only the suit made it possible to move through stopped time, at all.

Instantaneously to them, almost twenty minutes went by for him. Passed thirty-one cyborgs, drew level with Penny and Parker, then Dad and his brothers. Running a marathon on Jupiter would have hurt less, been easier. But, progress was being made.

Virgil and Gordon seemed to be squaring off against the Mechanic, who still held Alan three feet off the ground. There was a micro-thin, sparkling red line aimed squarely at the machine-man's right eye. Laser sight. Too difficult to turn his head for the source, but John bet on Captain Taylor, because he couldn't see the astronaut anywhere, and because Little Bit… _Kayo…_ would have used different tactics. He could sense Jaeger fading, losing coherence. Grunted,

"Hang on, Buddy… almost there."

Should have saved his breath for the effort of bringing his arm up, and crossing those final few feet. Was literally inching forward by this point, heart threatening to burst in his rib cage. Vision had become a kaleidoscope of Alan's purple, bloated face, that glittering target lock, and the hulking, murderous cyborg. Was too distracted to see what was happening behind this Godawful static display, so John never noticed who _else_ was present.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

 _In regular time flow-_

Virgil Tracy wasn't the sort who calculated his punches, or laid elaborate plans. At heart, he was an artist. But, when somebody threatened his family, all of that fell to the wayside, leaving a very strong, very angry young man, loaded for bear… or machine-man. Nor was he alone in this.

Nobody gave any signal. It all just happened, at once. A laser-burst flared from the right, striking the Mechanic's goggles over one fierce amber eye. The cyborg's head snapped back, and then he locked up; frozen in place like he'd rusted solid, or something. Virgil surged forward, and so did Gordon; one tackling the Mechanic with every bit of force in his powerful body, the other catching Alan, who'd dropped from the cyborg's grip. John appeared, from literally frickin' _nowhere,_ only to drop like a rock, unconscious before he struck ground. The Mechanic fell harder, sounding like someone had dropped about a ton of scrap metal onto a concrete floor.

Then, something like a bomb went off in their heads; an explosion of noise and pain and loud, gloating laughter.

"Well done," said a silky, familiar voice, as everyone… cyborg, civilian and Tracy, was driven to their knees. "You have my genuine thanks, International Rescue… and then, a very slow death."


	8. Chapter 8

Thanks bunches for reviewing, Tikatu and Whirl Girl! Your opinion matters. =) Will slow down now, though, promise.

 **8**

 _On tall, steaming Mt. Erebus, at the mouth of a swiftly-dug tunnel-_

Kayo sat on the rocky ground beside a low grav-stretcher, knees drawn up to her chest, lovely face streaked with tears. She was mostly out of the wind, more for Nikorr's sake, than her own. Beside her, on the floating cart, her handsome cousin battled death. He'd been terribly wounded; had expended tremendous power attempting to save those around him from being crushed to death beneath hundreds of tons of shattered rock.

As fast as she'd been able to flog her unwitting, enslaved family, Kayo had come to his aid… maybe too late. At the moment, her power was the only thing keeping Niko alive. That, and Gordon's hasty ministrations. Every once in awhile, she touched him; checking with mind and body, both, for warmth and a pulse. For fading life.

Down below, things had gone horribly wrong. Tanusha could sense it, for her brothers' minds, and Grandma's, and Dad's, were very close, and deeply familiar. She _felt_ Alan's shock and pain, then his terrified plunge into blackness. Knew that the Mechanic had gained the upper hand, somehow, and was threatening them all with destruction… and yet, she could not move.

To leave Nikorr's side would doom him. Already, she'd lost John, perhaps forever. She could not afford to lose her vexing cousin, as well. Not like this. Really and truly, the girl did not know what to do.

Outside, that weirdly directionless light glittered off snow banks, icefields and steam clouds. Out there, a freezing wind moaned and buffeted. Inside, Kayo's heart broke, and she made up her mind.

XXXXXXXXXX

 _Not far away, in the hive ship-_

The bridge was a busy place, with a population of two kids, one computer, and many scurrying bug-mechs. A long, curving viewscreen dominated the forward bulkhead. At the moment, the screen was split in half, displaying both the scene below, and power-use/ security data. Further along, Kane's cybernetic harness cables dangled unoccupied, just above his control platform. Off to its right was the gun-mount, linked now to Sentinel.

Ilya had been left in charge of the laser and Ship, while Kane dropped below to handle the Tracys. There were enemy cyborgs there, too; the same kind that had attacked them back in Tierra del Fuego. That had been a close one, but Kane had made upgrades to his armour and systems. His hero was proof against the worst that those losers could throw at him, Ilya was certain. Wished he was down there to help, though. And Sissy… Katrin… too. Even if she _was_ just a part-robot baby, just learning to talk, and hard to pin down. Formerly crippled, she'd turned into a right ball of fire, almost never still for more than a couple of minutes.

Now she was back, sitting beside him on a very patient green beetle-mech. Katrin could steer the drone wherever she wanted, by kicking her legs and pushing or pulling its stubby antennae, and she shrieked with laughter when it took flight 'round the noisy bridge. _Eesh,_ he thought, _sisters_ _._

Back in their old place, in the stairwell of a derelict shopping mall, he hadn't known she was powerful. Just a good, happy baby, who loved him, and never made any trouble. Ilya had been her whole world, after their mother went away and never came back. They'd roughed it for awhile; Ilya scrounging and hustling for food the best way he knew how, Sissy remaining hidden, for she'd had only one leg, and it didn't work, at _all._

Then, the Mechanic arrived, taking hostages and killing everyone else; all the ones who'd robbed the boy, laughed at or molested him. They were all dead now, and could never hurt him, or find Sissy, _ever._

The Mechanic had changed everything. He'd given the boy a job and a weapon. He'd given Sissy a cyborg leg, and circuits that made her small, twisted body all strong. She could stand up, now. Walk and run, even, in short spurts. And she had a new name. Katrin.

And… maybe he was making a big mistake… maybe Kane would be mad at him… but Ilya had a very strong, sudden feeling that they ought to be down there with him, right now. Uncertainly, he glanced over at his little sister, who was looking right at him, her blue eyes gone real serious.

"Think we should go help, Sis?" he asked, forgetting to use her new name, or the lower, more manly voice he'd been practicing.

Without smiling, or anything, Katrin pointed at the battle below and said, very demanding and loud,

"Katy go! Bubby go! _Now!"_

"Okay, you betcha!"

Ilya exulted, leaping up from his seat at the gun-mount. To Ship, he said,

"Keep firing, but don't get any closer to the target, until you hear from me, or Kane. Just… look extra mean. Wave it around like you're mad, or something. We'll be back, soon, with prisoners, maybe… so probably make some new cells. Strong ones, 'cause Tracys and cyborgs are tricky. They'll try to get away and kill us all. Okay, Ship? Got that?"

The bridge lights dimmed and then brightened, again, and a deep, bell-tone sounded, sort of like the one that soldier-drones used to summon all their buddies for a fight. Ship got it, and would do what he'd said. Smiling, Ilya patted the nearest control surface. How had he ever lived anywhere else? How had he put up with 'vermin'?

Less than five minutes later, he and his little sister were on their way out through the big mech-port, surrounded by a humming cloud of fierce, zipping hornet-drones. Ilya was strapped into one of Kane's jetpacks, and holding the girl, who clung tight, her eyes narrowed against a shocking-cold wind. Already, she'd begun reaching out with her mind.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

 _Down below-_

The Hood was injured and feverish, although Brains and 'Grandma', fooled by illusion, had bound up and splinted that broken leg. Hate, rage and pain had amplified his own natural power till it nearly burnt out his mind and peripheral nervous system. On the one hand, he felt like a flaring, dark god. On the other, he was losing intellect and sanity by the moment. Would take them all down with him into hell, though, every shrieking step of the way.


	9. Chapter 9

Hi, guys! =) See, told you I'd slow things down a little. Profoundest thanks aimed squarely at Whirl Girl, Bow Echo and Tikatu, for helping me along the way... and, Hi there, Rebelgirl 01! Edited.

 **9**

 _Ross Island, near the icy northern face of Mount Erebus-_

Ablaze with the power of vengeance and hatred, the Hood decided to thin out the crowd, a bit. Four of his helpless captives, he would not immediately kill, for they deserved his close, undivided attention, for as long as he was able to draw out their suffering. Highest on that list was the Mechanic, together with the small child who'd done the cyborg's bidding, and controlled the Hood, himself. (Though she remained at large, for the moment.) Next were Jeff, Scott and John Tracy, who'd once dared to defy, beat and humiliate him. All of the rest were mere diversions, including his niece, and the other Kyranos.

His head was splitting, and his skin seemed to crawl with feverish, prickling energy, but the Hood held firm; twisting the minds in his grasp until they were helpless to resist him. Smiling thinly, the slight, bald man focused his will upon Jeff Tracy, and forced him to rise from his knees. Then, puppet-like, he made the astronaut reach down and pick up his discarded rifle.

There was still a great deal of fight in that trapped mind; horror and refusal in the anguished brown eyes of his oldest foe… but that only made things sweeter. Jeff fought him, _hard._ But the outcome was never in doubt. The Hood's green eyes glowed, turning almost cat-yellow as he stared at the other man and snarled,

"Kill them, beginning with _that_ one!"

XXXXXXXXXXXX

 _On wind-swept Mt. Erebus, former stronghold of the Kyranos-_

Kayo had reached an anguished decision. Weeping silently, she'd kissed Nikorr's bandaged forehead, and murmured,

"I'm sorry…"

Then, she'd stumbled her way to the ice-slide, half blind and despairing. Still cradled his fading mind with her own, trying to prop him up for as long as she could, regardless. Was about to step off, meaning to aid the innocent family she'd dragged into this hell-storm, when something moved at the edge of her vision. Almost, Tanusha ignored it, but… Something drew her eye northward, made her focus on a cloud of swirling drones that had just burst out of the hovering hive ship.

Dashing at tears with the sleeve of one shaking arm, the girl stared harder. Those hornet-mechs were behaving oddly; forming what looked like a shifting bubble around something that kept trying to break free. A small, jet-packing figure, clutching something still smaller.

She watched, confused, as the little flier made repeated attempts to reach the disaster, below, only to be cut off, corralled and redirected, every time. Just so, had she seen herd dogs control a flock of milling sheep… except without laser-stings and snapping, razor-sharp pincers.

Startled, Kayo gasped and took a few steps back toward her cousin's stretcher, for that swarm was headed their way. Might have dived for the ice-slide, but hesitated, torn by pain and doubt. Then, it was too late.

The roar of wings and clattering jaws surrounded them, darkening the sky above like a laser-lit, fiery cloud. Kayo was zapped and slashed by the beastly mechanical nightmares, a hundred times over. Not badly enough to kill or incapacitate the girl, only harass her. Hurt her. Nikorr, they left strictly alone. Kayo stretched out with her mind, trying to force the dive-bombing mechas away. She could not compel or highjack them, though, for their tiny brains were electronic, and shielded by something very angry and terribly strong.

Then, someone collided with Kayo, hard. _Two_ someones. She hit the rocky ground, rolled, and came up in a ready stance, only just not toppling from the tunnel's brief outer ledge.

Found herself face to face with a skinny young boy… blond, six, maybe seven years old… and a very small, yellow-haired girl. Scratch that; a tiny female cyborg, with at least one robot limb and lightning-like, branching circuitry lancing her flesh. Took her a moment, but, at the first quick brush of their minds, Kayo recognized the infant horror who'd kicked her arse, back in Jakarta.

Only, the child seemed more frantic than combative, now. Time and again, her exposed circuitry flared, as though something was preventing the child from lashing out with her mind. Meanwhile, those big-jawed, ruby-eyed mechanical hornets had settled to the ground and rock walls around them all; forming a shifting metallic fence. Pretty clearly, no one was going _anywhere_ for the time being.

The boy had a rifle bigger than _he_ was slung at his back (though he was more entangled in its strap, than anything else). Almost sobbing with frustration, he tried to leap up and get himself sorted, but tripped and fell flat. Meanwhile, the little girl's lower lip was thrust out, and she was breathing in a huffy, almost panting way; yellow curls in her eyes, face turning red. Like her older companion, she wore a loose, brown bodysuit with small metal plates woven in. _Hmmm…_

Slowly, keeping a tight shield over Niko, Tanusha straightened from her aggressive ready-stance. Virgil had said something in debrief about the Mechanic holding a couple of child hostages. Could these be them? Had they escaped the hive ship, and been pursued here by a swarm of vengeful drones? Possibly… except that the mechs weren't acting the way they should have been. They weren't re-taking their "prisoners".

Confused, Kayo raked her abused bottom lip with her teeth. Already cold, she now had shredded clothing to contend with, as well. Not the worst of her problems, though. Sniffling, she adjusted her bodysuit, got herself together and said,

"Um… hullo. My name is Tanusha. I'm w… with International Rescue, and… and you're safe, now… sort of."

Great. Even to herself, that didn't sound very convincing, but it had been a tragically horrible day, starting with the stupid decision to kidnap her adoptive family, instead of just trying to convince them.

The boy was upright, now, too. Kicking a stone at her, he spat,

"Liar! You're one of _them!_ You're a Tracy! I don't know what you did to the mechs to get us over here, but if you don't stop it, I'll kill you in the head with my gun! Let us go! _We gotta get down there, and help!"_

"I…" Kayo began to respond. Then, in her mind, she saw a fast, whirling light-storm of images; most of them involving the Mechanic… _Kane…_ and none of them bad, or afraid.

"You… wait," she said. "You're not hostages, at all, are you?"

The boy shook his head violently, his expression a mixture of tearful, powerless wrath and disgust.

"He's my _friend!_ He fixed Sissy's leg! Dammit, let me go _help!"_

"I'm not controlling these drones," said Tanusha, very cautiously. The little girl was still huffing and screwing up her face like a toddler about to explode. True focus seemed to be elsewhere, though. "I don't know who _is,_ or why they brought you here… but maybe they want us to cut some kind of deal?"

Quite gently, Tanusha supplied a few images of her own; showing her wonderful brothers and Nikorr, who needed help from someone with power. In her eagerness, she leaned too close to one of the hornets, who took a fast slice out of Kayo's left shoulder. Biting her lip, she applied pressure to stop the bleeding, but didn't cry out. Nothing like that had happened to the two kids, no matter how close they got to a drone. Quite clearly, whoever was in command of those mechs had no love at all for Tanusha Kyrano Tracy. Seemed to need her, though. So, facing the children, Kayo crouched down and used her best, persuasive charms.

"Right, then… listen. Perhaps we can help each other out, alright? You want to reach the Mechanic, I need to save my family, and the Hood is _both_ our enemy. So… what about this? Gun-boy, you and I jet-pack down to the danger zone, with as many drones as we can field. You shoot, I strike psioni… erm, with my mind. Evil Baby, you stay up here, and… and _please…_ just keep him alive for me? I swear to you both that, even if it gets me tossed out of IR, the Mechanic goes free. Just… just not with Sentinel, or any of my brothers. So...? Deal?"

The boy was clutching his rifle like a holy talisman. Still stubborn and fierce, he tried edging away from her, but one of the hornet mechs buzzed its wings at him, by way of stern reprimand. Then the little one tried to rejoin her brother, only to be herded away by a snapping cordon of drones. Didn't harm her, but would not let her pass.

She folded her arms across her small chest, still breathing hard, but refusing to cry. Stomping her metal foot upon the rocks with a loud, ringing _CLANG_ , she growled,

"Not baby! No more good girl! No more be quiet!" Then, in a totally different voice and manner, "Bubby go. Bad lady go."

Slowly, Tanusha rose from her crouch. A laser shot had hissed out, down below. Echoing among the rocks, that thin, humming whine was almost lost in the wind, and the crackling hum of Sentinel. Kayo winced. Then she said to the scowling little one,

"You'll protect him? You promise?"

The child gave her a filthy look, and trudged on over to Niko's bobbing stretcher.

"Bubby go," she repeated, without looking back. And then, seeming frustrated with useless words, she made more pictures in both of their minds, showing herself watching from above, and ready to act.

Kayo nodded.

"I'll trade you," she whispered. "You keep mine safe, I'll help you free yours."

 _Now,_ the drones began lifting into the air once again, leaving only a handful behind with Nikorr, and that tension-wracked, awful little girl. _Definitely,_ the mechs were being manipulated by a third party, but Kayo had no time to speculate further, for the boy had triggered his jet-pack, and offered her a hand. Another shot sounded, making both of them jump. Then,

"Fast and sudden," he snapped, "from above. Bald-guy won't give us two chances, _Tracy,_ so you gotta handle this right. Screw us over, and I'll kill you."

XXXXXXXXXXX

 _Down below-_

Virgil Tracy stared at his father's grim face across the long, shining barrel of a laser rifle. It had been fired twice, already. Dad's jaw muscles stood out like quivering boulders. His hands shook, as he struggled with all of his might not to pull that trigger, again.

Like the others, Virgil had been forced to kneel on the icy rocks beside the field hospital. Like them, he was held fast by the Hood's twisted, dark power, and completely unable to move. His exo-suit still hummed and throbbed, its ready-lights blinking calm green. Without input from its pilot, however, the power-suit offered less protection than a layer of sunscreen. He was going to die, just as soon as his anguished father lost one more battle with the Hood, and his own shaking trigger finger.

Then something... a faint wisp of red energy... drifted into Virgil's suit. All at once, rocks showered in every direction, and Virgil's limbs nearly snapped. The mechanical suit burst to its feet with explosive, hurtling suddenness. The right claw-grip shot out, seized the gun's barrel, and folded it screeching double. Meanwhile, the left grasper hauled Dad off his feet and slammed him at the startled Hood, with all the strength a lone, possessed machine could muster.


	10. Chapter 10

Thanks. Done, soon.

 **10**

 _London, at the Global Defense Force world headquarters, in Colonel Casey's spacious, glass-walled office-_

The uproar of battle had been tremendous. They'd picked up the noise and tremors at three GDF Antarctic weather stations, and over in Tierra del Fuego. Weren't sure what to make of all that, so those low-ranking techs did the smart thing, and called up the line for assistance. Whatever was happening down there on Ross Island was big, ugly, and far more trouble than _they_ had the teeth for. Besides, when in doubt, just pass it along. Somebody else's problem, right?

But… about thirty buck-passes later… Colonel Casey hesitated. There had been no official distress call, and surely, International Rescue would have informed them of any developing 'situations'. So, instead of dispatching troops or a flying fortress, she temporized, and redirected a couple of satellites for a closer look. Pinged John Tracy, as well, for wasn't this sort of thing _his_ business?

Jeff was out of the office on family leave, but Linda Casey pinged him, as well. If they'd all gone fishing, or something (she'd been out to the ranch, before) it was time that they got back to work. Except… no one replied to her hails. Not Jeff, John, Scott, Brains or even Miz Tracy. Nobody home, and that was quite odd.

Scowling, the tall, dark-haired colonel tapped an electronic stylus against her smoked-glass desktop, producing a light, rapid clicking noise. Not precisely a beautiful woman, she had command presence in spades, inspiring awe in all those who met her. Or, nearly so. Truthfully, she'd always hoped to generate something softer than awe in Jeff Tracy. Only, she didn't know quite how to lower her own defenses, and accomplish all that. Didn't know how to "flirt".

Outside, far below, tourists and traffic swirled round the parks and moving walkways; pointing, commenting, wondering. Inside, Linda Casey bit the top of her lip, and waited for that Goddam satellite intel. Just to be on the safe side, however, she ordered a very fast shuttle.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

 _Ross Island, Antarctica, not far from the beach-_

All the world had been his; had stretched out before him, cowering in fear. Just so, must Gilgamesh, Alexander the Great, Atilla, Napoleon and Richter have felt, gazing over their conquests. Soon, history would have added 'The Hood' to that glorious list. _He would have been worshipped!_ That stinking, wind-swept island would have become a shrine to his greatness and power!

Then Jeff Tracy, his helpless puppet, had been hurled at the erstwhile Kyrano, snapping his concentration. Not by Virgil. _That_ hulking idiot's mind had been firmly under control. No, the big man's exo-suit had done it, somehow; sending the stunned astronaut crashing into the Hood with bone-snapping force, wielded like a club by machinery with the strength to shift mountains. Momentarily, he'd blacked out. Less than a second, perhaps, but that was enough.

Clouds of droning, stinging hornet-mechs descended upon him, pouring out of the sky like carnivorous locusts. Someone began shooting from overhead. Then another, from rocky cover, off to the right. Those d*mned cyborgs joined in, as well, weaving a textile of red, flaring lasers and howling particle beams.

Stumbling backward, the Hood tripped over the massive, cyber-locked form of the Mechanic, and crashed hard to the rocky ground. His niece, Tanusha, tried to attack him, next. But would-be world conquerors do not go down easily.

Ignoring a wave of nausea and searing pain, the Hood blocked her pathetic stabs, then expanded his reach. For a thousand miles and spreading, ship captains heeled over, sending their vessels on course to ram the nearest port or research facility. Pilots put their planes into roaring power-dives, aiming like missiles for the closest city. Submarine crews opened their hatches and released all their nuclear fuel. GDF peace officers turned upon helpless civilians. While, nearer to hand, the cyborgs began shooting each other, and the Tracys.

Through blood and fury and broken teeth, the Hood snarled out,

"Cease this ridiculous assault, or I shall release global chaos! You will save the world, only to watch it _burn!"_

He now had Sentinel, after all, and could… watch in shocked rage, as the Mechanic's hive ship unzipped like a long metal brush case, dumping Sentinel right into the ocean. Fractured sunlight and steam clouds swirled and sparkled at the weapon's brief descent and loud, ringing plunge. A vast sheet of grey water rocketed into the air, breaking up into millions of glittering rainbow droplets, then launching a tidal wave onto the icy beach.

XXXXXXXXXX

 _Meanwhile-_

Partly mud-and-ice flavoured seawater, partly that volcanic noise, partly his buzzing wrist comm woke John. Automatically checked systems, and... right. His body was one giant, burnt-feeling ache. Several big chunks of rock and shrapnel made themselves understood beneath him, jagged and hard where they poked at his ribs. So, yeah… time to get up. Call was from Colonel Casey, who could d*mn well leave a message.

Got to his feet, in rapidly rising, very cold water. Beside him, Virgil was picking dad up off the ground, while Grandma shouted for help as she tried to wrestle Alan and Gordon clear of the flood. Saw Lee racing their way, weapon held over his head to keep the prism dry. Would have rushed in to help, only Scott jerked him around by grabbing one arm, pointing at… the Hood? _Here?_

John stifled the urge to be sick or ask questions. Just followed his brother in tackling that bald, raging maniac, whose mouth gaped wide open in curses and shrieks of pure rage.

Noticed too late when someone… a skinny, small kid… reached the Mechanic, and snapped off that flashing red cyberlock.


	11. Chapter 11

The end, or as near as don't make no difference. Thank you for coming along on this little adventure. I've had fun. Edited.

 **11**

 _Ross Island, Antarctica, in_ _very_ _trying times-_

Scott Tracy struck the Hood high, like a defensive tackle smashing a running back. His brother, beside him, hit even harder. The Hood wasn't playing, and so _they_ couldn't, either. The pain in their heads, the… _diediediediediediedie…_ was horrendous. Sick-making. Should have had them on the flooded ground in a tight fetal curl. Only, someone, somehow, was blocking a part of it.

John got the struggling monster into an upright full nelson hold, letting Scott do his best to beat him unconscious. Only, the field commander's perceptions weren't normal, this close to the Hood, and some of those blistering punches landed squarely on John, instead. The brain-frying pain in his skull had risen to such levels that Scott wasn't thinking, anymore. Just trying… to… make it… _stop._

With a roar like an erupting volcano, something sprang upright, behind him. Weirdly, saw it all through the Hood's eyes, and John's, and everyone else's in that tangled d*mn psionic muddle. The Mechanic's huge, armoured hand shot past Scott, bashing him aside like a cardboard cutout. Seized the Hood's bloody shirt front and shook John off, too, like a wet dog shedding water.

Then, with a wordless roar, the Mechanic ignited his jetpack, sending himself and his bald, screaming burden rocketing into the sky, trailing blood. The hornet drones followed, all of them lifting at once.

Didn't help, at first. If anything, his agony grew worse; increasing to the point that Scott would have bashed his own head in with a rock, had he been able to see straight and find one. Then… nothing. Over. Gone.

Scott found himself on his knees in swirling, icy grey water, both hands clamped to his head, panting like a bellows. John… was not far away, sitting curled over with his head between his knees and both arms locked tight over that. Scott flailed a bit, managed a swaying stand, then splashed over and hauled his brother upright. John looked like he'd been ejected from hell… but then, so did _he._ Could tell, because there was still a bit of that mental reverb going on. For just a little while, he was feeling and seeing through John, and everyone else. Made it real hard to walk.

"You… okay?" he panted.

John, looking sunburnt, freckled with cuts and abrasions, managed a pretty good lie. Dad would have been proud of him.

"Yeah," the astronaut grunted. "Aces."

The others, not so good. Straightaway, Scott started thinking of Penny, who he could somehow _feel_ , over there working with Grandma and Kayo, trying to save their two youngest brothers. Wasn't going too well.

That kid with the stupid-big gun was back on his feet. Swaying with pain and stifled panic, he'd squared off against Parker and Lee. The cyborgs were hauling injured folk out of the water, some of them. The rest had begun collecting around their still, watchful leader. Scott glanced her way. Shuddering, he looked quickly aside, again; unsettled by that ghastly union of woman and bot. More roughly than intended, he shoved John in her direction, rasping,

"All yours, Little Brother. Hold them off, whatever it takes. I'll deal with this lot."

Not very bold, maybe, but he'd had better days. And, besides, John seemed to actually _like_ the disturbing machine-woman. They parted with a brief, rough shoulder clasp. Bottom line, before the rest had come along, they'd had each other. Scott had climbed into his brother's play-pen to sing off-key number songs and offer him chocolate biscuits, leaving both of them covered in crumbling brown goo. Didn't have to explain things to John. Especially now.

The tall, red-haired astronaut had more or less gotten his head together, by that point. Only, his suit was plain, circuit-shot blue, now, and there was no wandering red spot on his wrist comm, anymore. Kept checking, reflexively. Was getting continual squeeze-code updates from Eos, at least, who was up there making small, subtle changes to… Ship? Just, _'Ship'?_

Whatever. He knew exactly what was in Scott's mind, right now; pack up the wounded, get the h*ll out of Dodge, then try to fix that chaotic nightmare the Hood had stirred up all over the _rest_ of the planet.

So, John sloshed his way over through freezing seawater, to meet with a beautiful cyborg. Her body guard parted, letting him through. They were shorter than she was; looking sort of the same, but not. Like they'd all been cast rather badly, from the same ancient mold. She spoke first, saying,

"I would have your name, Tracy. Presuming you've earned one."

"Yeah," he replied. "It's John. John Matthew Tracy, former lieutenant, GDF Space Corps, inactive reserve." Voice caught a bit, on the rank part, because… yeah. Shook it off, adding, "International Rescue prime operative, based on Thunderbird 5. And you are…?"

The body guard stiffened. As for their leader, her target lock flickered, in a sort of amused, hair-mussing way.

"Gail," she told him. "I am Gail Kane. _The_ Kane. As one of you is the Tracy. And these are from me, all of them."

John looked around at all of those narrow-eyed, similar faces, thinking: _'Sh*t, that's a lot of Christmas and birthday cards.'_ Didn't say it out loud, though. She'd continued speaking.

"You have performed efficiently, John Matthew Tracy. I shall adhere to our initial accord, and see to the surviving Kyranos. In the meanwhile, as you have taken damage,"

She reached over to tap the side of his face with one cold metal hand. Something stung, briefly, then seemed to expand and shoot inwards like an injection of liquified frost.

"Nanites," she informed him. "You shall be repaired, and then they will pass from your body in twelve further cycles." And, more quietly. "Immortality is no gift, John Matthew Tracy."

He blinked, grappling with the thought of great age and exhaustion. Said only,

"Thank you," adding (because it couldn't hurt to try), "Don't guess you could do anything for my brothers?"

In Scott's mind, for just a second, he'd seen Dad, with a rifle, under the Hood's awful grip. Seen what he'd done. The cyborg didn't have many expressions, but she gave him a small, regal nod. Then from somewhere produced three shiny chrome patches. Circular, like tiny metallic bandages.

"These, too, your service has earned. Decide wisely how you intend to employ them, Tracy. I have my own injured to tend, along with the Kyranos. And… I would be elsewhere, before he returns."

John got it in one. Did not have to ask who she was talking about. Simply nodded his thanks, taking the silvery nanite patches from her smooth hand. Then, impulsively, leaned forward to kiss her chrome cheek. It clouded with breath-fog, just for a moment, causing all of those clone-guards to clatter and stare.

Pivoted, afterward, and raced back over to where Grandma, Penny and Kayo were frantically working on his two youngest brothers. Just a couple of kids who'd wanted to help make a difference, barely clinging to life. Reached Gordon, first, where he was drawn up onto Grandma's lap. Jammed one of the patches onto the swimmer's bloodied and cauterized chest, figuring: _'The closer, the better.'_

Next, almost falling over with ungainly haste, John reached past Gordon to smack another patch onto Alan's partly crushed throat, which Penny had been trying to work open using the contents of Tanusha's med-kit. And, yeah… his sister was there. No, he didn't speak, or make eye-contact. Just left her with Alan.

Got himself upright; unfolding soggy and colt-like. Had a decision to make. Could hear Scott and Lee trying to reason with Trigger-boy, but didn't much listen, nor try to butt in. Had one more nanite patch left, and two injured crew. Brains, and Dad.

In the complex mathematics of duty and blood, Dad counted higher… but the poor, broken-limbed engineer was more seriously hurt. Blood bubbled out of his mouth and nose with each breath, and he uttered a thin, continuous moan.

…and _this_ was why he preferred to stay up there in space. This sh*t, exactly. Muttering filthy curses, John leaned across Virgil, who was holding Brains up out of the flood water, and set a patch on the little man's forehead. Sucked, having to make that sort of decision, when there was no way to just split a dose. Not this time.

Looked over at Dad again, who was now sitting up, clutching his head. But the sight got all tangled with images of his father's face, seen across a long rifle barrel, laser-dot glittering red as fresh blood. Didn't know what to think. How to feel.

Then, thank God in heaven, something else happened. More accurately, someone arrived. The Mechanic thundered back down out of the now-cloudy sky, along with a crap-ton of drones. Dropped to a splashing half-crouch, then rose to full height.

To Scott Tracy, he seemed… disoriented. Confused. Still hella dangerous, though, in the way that a lion, just wakened from tranquilizers, would still gladly tear you to rough, bloody chunks.

Scott glanced over at John, who nodded once, then came to join him and Lee. Virgil began to get up, but Scott shook his head vehemently. Not just no, but _h*ll_ no; too much hijack-able machinery in that big, humming exo-suit.

The three of them spread out a little, Taylor thumbing the safety catch off his space-issue laser, and chewing on gum; eyes flinty and cold. John was expressionless. Knew exactly what the Mechanic could do to his own suit and circuitry, but came forward anyhow, because they had to defend the others; buy time for those patches to work.

The cyborgs began backing away, except for their leader, who was all at once quite alone. Almost seemed as if she was expected to fight the Mechanic, herself. Then that kid came splashing and flailing up to stand between the Mechanic and his grim reception committee. Swinging the rifle up into business position, he shrilled,

"Get back! Get away! I'll shoot you! _I mean it!"_

A few of the bug-mechs had landed on the boy's skinny shoulders, their presence seeming to lend him courage and strength. In a steadier, slightly deeper voice, he said,

"One more step, and one of you dies."

Shifting the wad of spearmint gum in his mouth, Captain Taylor said softly,

"Now, no use getting' het up like that, Son. Nobody's tryin' ta…"

"I'm not your d*mn son!" snapped the silver-blond boy, no longer shaking. "And you're _not_ getting past me, vermin!"

Might have had to rush him, but then someone else showed up, borne in by a small escort of noisy hornet-mechs, and trailing a grav-stretcher. Little cyborg girl… two, maybe three years old. Cute as a button, if she hadn't have looked so intent and un-childlike. She dropped from the grip of those drones and right to the mechanic, who sort of sluggishly lifted his arms up to catch her. Putting a tiny hand to his masked face, she whispered,

"Go, now."

Then the little blonde wrapped both arms around that blood-spattered predator's neck and buried her face, adding,

"Gotsa go home!"

A tense, silent moment followed, stretching as taut as drawn bow strings; as fragile as crystal. Then, the Mechanic nodded. Reached forward with one massive hand to grab the boy's shoulder. Gave it a shake, then drew him in, too.

The jet-pack ignited again with a low, coughing roar, and the Mechanic blasted away from the gathered Tracys, taking two children along for the ride. Arced like a meteor, headed back to the hive ship and followed by a dense cloud of clattering drones.

"Shouldn't we stop him?" Scott fretted.

Taylor snorted through his big, greyish-brown mustache.

"How?" he demanded. "Spence, I nailed that sumbitch right in the eye. Had him dead ta rights. Ain't even scratched his d*mn glasses. On 'a whole, mebbe we're Goddam lucky them kids 'a his has some influence. Cause, otherwise… Well, it might've got rough."

After a second, Scott let go of his pre-fight tension. He'd have done it. He'd have waded right in there with John and Uncle Lee… but maybe it was better to let the Mechanic retreat. After all, they weren't law enforcement. Had no power at all to arrest or detain.

Moot point a few minutes later, for the hive ship roared off and away. Vanished to a point of glittering light, and then nothing at all. Behind him, Scott heard Gordon mumble and cough. Heard Alan groan aloud like a kid who wanted just five minutes longer in bed. For an instant, tears sprang to his eyes, but Scott fiercely blinked them away.

Had himself well under control by the time he turned to face John and Lee. Jerking a thumb over one shoulder at the hissing ocean and submerged laser weapon, he barked,

"Take Parker, get some explosive ordnance out of Thunderbird 2, and blow that f*cker to kingdom come. No chunks larger than a quarter. Understood?"

Taylor grinned at him, slinging old Bessie back into safe-carry.

"H*ll, Spence… if there's one thing me 'n Jason excels at, it's blowin' stuff up. Find anythin' bigger 'n a _sand grain,_ we owe ya a night on th' town." Then, turning to John, "C'mon, Jase… let's go make trouble."

Always.


	12. Epilogue

As I never seem to be really quite _finished,_ here's a bit more by way of tying a few loose ends. And, thank you, Bow Echo, Whirl Girl and Tikatu, for your patience with my often meandering stories. =)

 **Epilogue**

 _On a cold, windy island, with the petrels and seals just making their hesitant comebacks-_

No one ever found the Hood, or whatever remained of him, though bad weather and maritime incidents would be blamed on his malign influence for some time to come. The Mechanic and his young 'hostages' disappeared for awhile, too, having got clean away.

All sorts of theories sprang up about the violent, midair confrontation of these two evil powers (some of them backed by GDF satellite footage). But, nothing conclusive was ever proven. To be safe, the World Council charged Kane with kidnapping and first-degree murder, then issued a(nother) warrant for the cyborg's arrest; this time, adding a massive reward. A mistake, as it turned out, resulting in dozens of foolish, dead bounty hunters.

Sentinel had been blasted apart, and then some. Nearly atomized, actually. Although force-shielded, the explosion caused some harm to the beach environment, and _really_ pissed off Colonel Casey. Having loaded a still-woozy Jeff into her shuttle, she set him up with a med-bot. Then, instead of hounding their father, the tall, angry woman strode back out of the air ship and rounded on Scott and John Tracy. Stopping them near Thunderbird 2, the colonel gave vent to her rage and frustration.

"That weapon was evidence!" she snapped, leaning forward aggressively, and stabbing at Scott's chest with an accusing finger. "It was government property! You had no right… _zero…_ to destroy it! Nobody pays you two to make policy decisions after the fact, dammit!"

Scott Tracy had been gazing stonily straight ahead, his gem-blue eyes focused on nothing at all. Alan looked like that, sometimes, when getting the 'pay attention to schoolwork' sermon from Grandma. Now, though, Scott dropped his thousand-mile stare and came back to the present. Batting aside Casey's chest-jabbing finger, he growled,

"With all due respect, Colonel, you weren't here. You didn't have that thing crawling right up your arse. You didn't get to see what it could do, up close! We…"

 _"Completely_ failed to inform the proper authorities, or to seek back-up," she cut him off, growing more agitated by the second. Whirling on John, this time, she snarled,

"Fifty-two ships, planes and submarines down! Thousands killed or unaccounted for, because _you_ couldn't issue a Goddam warning, _Lieutenant!"_

That one hit home, but John had no real defense. How could he tell her _why_ he hadn't informed the GDF brass, without getting his sister in trouble? Maybe arrested, even. Would have said something, accepted the blame, except that Scott shouldered him roughly aside, red-faced and furious.

"Colonel, _back off!_ You have no idea what the h*ll happened here, Lady, and you're _not_ in charge of my team! Sentinel's gone. I stand by that decision. No warnings were issued, because we were in the middle of a Goddam firefight between two criminals WorldGov can't seem to hang onto, and _we never got the chance!_ Sometime, when somebody's ready to actually _listen,_ I might explain, but not here, not now, and definitely never to _you!"_

By this time, Virgil had come over, with Lee, Penny and Grandma. Surveying all those tense, hostile faces, Colonel Casey stood down. Sort of. To Scott... to all of them, she said,

"I'll be in touch with the oversight committee. We may have to put a comptroller in place, given your careless disregard for public safety, destructiveness and insubordination, _Mister_ Tracy."

Once again, her narrowed brown eyes flickered to John, and then over at Lady Penelope, as though warning them both that they were on much shorter leashes, and very dangerous ground. Behind her, a GDF tech was poking around taking pictures of wreckage and environmental damage.

"Now, hang on just a second!" said Virgil, beginning to heat up. "We don't need your…"

Only Grandma's calming hand, her whispered reprimand, kept the big pilot from saying something monumentally unfortunate. No one could quash Lee, though.

Captain Taylor was officially semi-retired, and pretty much out of the World Council's reach. Feeling the need for some fortification, he'd switched out his gum for a long-hoarded cigarette. That the knife-sharp wind blew some of that smoke in the Colonel's face gave him intense satisfaction. Now, the older man pulled his hard-breathing nephews back from the brink. Shrugged his way between Casey and Scott with a slight smile on his seamed, handsome face.

"Well, now," he drawled, after dropping his cigarette butt, and grinding it out. "don't look ta me like we're accomplishin' much here, but hellfire n' threats. Sarge, seems ta me that a look at some o' that satellite footage 'ld give th' GDF a clearer idea 'bout what-all went down… since you was late f'r th' party, an' all."

Then, glancing fondly at Scott and his brothers,

"Spencer, Vic… them desk-jockeys has ta make a livin', same as everyone else. Little lady's said her piece, an' you've had yours. Whyn't we let th' bean-counters sort it all out, over t' London?" (Mostly, Lee didn't want to get into another fight and spend more time behind bars. For that matter, neither did John, whose prison barcode had yet to quite fade.)

As the cyborgs and Kyranos were long gone by this point, Colonel Casey had no one else to blame for the mess that she and Jeff were going to be facing, back at HQ. Didn't like being laughed at, either. So, nostrils quivering, standing precisely erect, the woman hissed,

"International Rescue is grounded, and all Thunderbird vessels impounded, until further notice. You lot can find your own way back. That is _all."_


End file.
